


Don't Move

by HappyFuseli



Category: Bent - Sherman, Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, Edgeplay, Ficlet, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Tantric, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham is a Tease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:41:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28041063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyFuseli/pseuds/HappyFuseli
Summary: I wrote this the Hugh Dancy way, i.e., "in the bath with a drink to hand." If you've read my other stuff, you know I don't normally write this sort of thing, so please be kind. This was very much inspired by the Martin Sherman play, Bent (1979). I've only ever seen the film version (1997) starring Clive Owen.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 54





	Don't Move

Hannibal was on his back, the top of his head drooping slightly off the edge of the mattress. A thin sheen of sweat was beginning to form on his wide, blushing collarbone as Will hooked his hands around slender thighs. He lowered his head just enough to breathe warm air over and around Hannibal's already fully swollen cock, which had been trapped securely inside the curve of Will's groin only moments earlier. It was thick and pink at the base, angry and red at the narrow, but no less imposing head. They couldn't have been at it for very long, surely, and yet, Hannibal appeared undone, open-mouthed, panting wildly, wholly taken apart as Will licked almost imperceptibly at the space just under his glans. 

"Don't move," Will said lowly, widening his thighs for better access to his own hardness. Hannibal’s mouth stretched firmly over his teeth at the sight of it.

"I don't want you to move." 

He nipped gently at Hannibal's balls, and then moved to swallow down the entire shaft, the vacuum pressure of his suction earning him a sharp intake of breath from the man underneath. It was only for an instant though, five bobs of the head at most, before he pulled away. 

Will peered up at Hannibal, impish, filled to the brim with cum and joy and tremendous power. He flexed his pelvic muscles and a small drop of fluid clung to the tip of his dick. 

"I need you, Hannibal." He gestured between his legs, teasingly. "God, I'm so dry."

Hannibal briefly considered Will's appeal, steeling himself. "What's to be done about that?"

Will moved back toward the head of Hannibal's cock, putting on a show as he bit the sides of his tongue, gathering a sufficient amount of spit. He released it and watched as it trailed down the shaft and onto an ample patch of graying pubic hair. 

"I don't want you to move, but I could really use some help here." He took Hannibal into his mouth again, sucking hard and pressing his tongue deep into the slit, only to pull away again. Hannibal whined in the back of his throat at the sudden loss of heat, tilting his hips off the bed as a solid drop of fluid spilled from his painfully stiff cock. Will gripped it carelessly, angling his thumb toward the base and coating his fingers in the wetness there. Again, his touches didn’t linger. He wanted to drag this out for as long as he possibly could.

Will crossed his fingers and thumbs together, creating a snug channel for himself. Hannibal looked on as Will thrust once, the sound of his pelvis slapping obscenely against his clasped hands, the effort of his forward lunge shaking the bedframe. Although Will was clearly overwhelmed by his own actions, he did his best to hide it, tilting his head to the side in reflection.

“No,” he gasped, “No, I don’t think that’s going to do it.”

He lowered his head back to Hannibal’s cock, taking the tip between his lips with an almost crushing pressure and letting it drop. He did this several times in a row, pausing each time to sit back and admire his work. Hannibal shifted his weight, desperate for release, as fraught as he could be under any circumstances. Fleetingly, Hannibal wondered whether Will had taken the upper hand simply because he chose to allow it, because he desired Will this way, or because they weren’t as alike as Hannibal had originally surmised. Perhaps Will, he thought, was a monster unto himself, more exceptional and more threatening on some level than Hannibal could have ever dreamed of being.

Either way, Hannibal was delighted. He was almost always delighted.

He took a labored breath, keening as more fluid slopped from his opening, his cock now pointing inward at an almost perfect 60 degree angle.

“That’s what I want,” Will said, gathering more spit and come to lubricate his makeshift hole. He thrust into his hands, snapping his hips twice this time, much harder than before. “God,” he whined. “Oh, fuck.” He slapped at the head of his cock, pumping his hips so it bobbed uselessly in the narrow expanse between Hannibal’s legs. 

“Will?” Hannibal’s voice was rough, on the edge of cross. He wasn’t sure what he was asking for, and Will, for his part, probably didn’t care. They had both come too far to stop now.

“What do you want, Hannibal?” Will replied, that tone of performative indifference suiting him so well. “You want me inside you?” He nudged himself against the cleft of Hannibal’s ass as he spoke, bringing his cock up to gently grace the underside of the taut sack. “How long do you think we’d last, huh?” He giggled sweetly, despite himself.

So sweet when he wants to be, Hannibal thought. So cruel, too. Sweet, cruel, cherished, saintly Will.

He pulled Hannibal closer so that their cocks touched, almost motionless against one another. “I think I may already be there,” Will said, bracing his hips and looking down. “Can you feel me there?”

So much, but never enough.

“Yes,” Hannibal said, “I think I can.”

“Are you wet enough for me?” Will closed his eyes. “Do you want to kiss me?”

“I am. I’m kissing you.” Hannibal could barely speak now; the pictures flooding his mind palace were too vivid, too hungry. And he’s always hungry, isn’t he? Always ravenous.

“Can you see what I’m doing to you? Can you feel how deep I am? How you’re all around me?”

Hannibal could see it so clearly now, and neither was sure of their own beginnings and ends. They were barely touching, yet still coiled around one another like some sort of Celtic maze.

“I feel you,” Hannibal spoke. “I have you.”

“Inside you.”

“Yes.”

“More?”

“More.”

“Now.”

“Now.”


End file.
